I’m sitting in my seat, and Mrs. Kate is explaining the math test and how we’re supposed to do it.
I let out a great big yawn, and my eyelids seem so heavy as I slouch.
Then, my eyes flutter open as air rushes past my ears. And then I realize I’m in the air. “AHH!” I hold on to myself and close my eyes.
“This is just a dream…this is just a dream…this is just a dream….” I keep telling myself. I know I’ll have to face my fear of heights, whether I like it. All I can think to do is not look down.
I know because if I glance down, I will barf up the Chinese chicken soup noodles I had for lunch, and I’m not ready to let it go just yet.
For the next several minutes, I don’t move, waiting for this nightmare to end. Then I decide: if I, Lilan Hammerman, die, then I will die being brave.
I open my eyes and realize I’m sitting on a sort of rocket—a tiny one. Sparks fly out of the butt at the end of this tiny rocket.
“Oh! This is no rocket! It’s a firework!” I’m used to saying stuff I realize out loud all the time. That habit got me in trouble with my fellow students; I blurt out things I realize all the time. I have therapy because of it. Our teacher once read A Tale of Sorcery to us, and I shouted, “Brystal will realize the most dangerous creature on Earth is humans!!!” when we were just words away from finding out the answer, not from my mouth, but Mrs. Kate’s. I think we’re just lucky she still reads to us. Luckily, I have learned to control that habit, but it was by excusing myself to the bathroom whenever I figured something out.
Now, I enjoy it as the fresh air zooms, carrying the smell of Chinese food and a hint of fresh pine needles and pool water.
I sit there, smelling the rough pool water, and my mind floats to when I had a swim meet on Sunday and when I was about to swim my last event: the two hundred freestyle.
Dum dum dum! It was an eight-lap swim, and I was very nervous. My dad said if I got a Junior Olympic time, he would let me have me—get ready for it!—a cat!!! Me and mom always wanted a cat, but it was my last race, so I had a lot of pressure. If I got a Junior Olympic time that day, I would get the cat the same day. And guess what? I got one! So I got a cat that day, and I realized (without blurting it out): as long as I just have hope and try my best, I can do anything. Oh no! I’m turning into one of those always-positive-all-rainbows-and-butterflies people.
Anyway, as I sit on this firework, I realize it’s going to explode, and I’m going to die. Well, I’ll just accept fate as it is, I guess. Plus, I don’t have to go to piano class in Heaven!
I look down and see that the apartments and skyscrapers are a mess of tiny lights. From up here, the trees look like tiny broccoli, and the humans taking a late-night walk look like colorful, fat ants.
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the world to end.
“Ugh…” I open my eyes, only to have a knife of sunlight cut into my eyes.
“Ow.”
Rubbing my sore back, I sit up and saw I’m in some sort of red land. The ground is grassy and—wait a minute… Those aren’t grass! Those are tiny fireworks!
I get up immediately and see trees, but those aren’t trees! Those are large, treelike fireworks.
I stare in shock as a red squirrel with fireworks sparks for a tail run past me and into a burrow.
I can’t say for sure, but I’m 80% sure this is Firework Land.
I let out a great big yawn, and my eyelids seem so heavy as I slouch.
Then, my eyes flutter open as air rushes past my ears. And then I realize I’m in the air. “AHH!” I hold on to myself and close my eyes.
“This is just a dream…this is just a dream…this is just a dream….” I keep telling myself. I know I’ll have to face my fear of heights, whether I like it. All I can think to do is not look down.
I know because if I glance down, I will barf up the Chinese chicken soup noodles I had for lunch, and I’m not ready to let it go just yet.
For the next several minutes, I don’t move, waiting for this nightmare to end. Then I decide: if I, Lilan Hammerman, die, then I will die being brave.
I open my eyes and realize I’m sitting on a sort of rocket—a tiny one. Sparks fly out of the butt at the end of this tiny rocket.
“Oh! This is no rocket! It’s a firework!” I’m used to saying stuff I realize out loud all the time. That habit got me in trouble with my fellow students; I blurt out things I realize all the time. I have therapy because of it. Our teacher once read A Tale of Sorcery to us, and I shouted, “Brystal will realize the most dangerous creature on Earth is humans!!!” when we were just words away from finding out the answer, not from my mouth, but Mrs. Kate’s. I think we’re just lucky she still reads to us. Luckily, I have learned to control that habit, but it was by excusing myself to the bathroom whenever I figured something out.
Now, I enjoy it as the fresh air zooms, carrying the smell of Chinese food and a hint of fresh pine needles and pool water.
I sit there, smelling the rough pool water, and my mind floats to when I had a swim meet on Sunday and when I was about to swim my last event: the two hundred freestyle.
Dum dum dum! It was an eight-lap swim, and I was very nervous. My dad said if I got a Junior Olympic time, he would let me have me—get ready for it!—a cat!!! Me and mom always wanted a cat, but it was my last race, so I had a lot of pressure. If I got a Junior Olympic time that day, I would get the cat the same day. And guess what? I got one! So I got a cat that day, and I realized (without blurting it out): as long as I just have hope and try my best, I can do anything. Oh no! I’m turning into one of those always-positive-all-rainbows-and-butterflies people.
Anyway, as I sit on this firework, I realize it’s going to explode, and I’m going to die. Well, I’ll just accept fate as it is, I guess. Plus, I don’t have to go to piano class in Heaven!
I look down and see that the apartments and skyscrapers are a mess of tiny lights. From up here, the trees look like tiny broccoli, and the humans taking a late-night walk look like colorful, fat ants.
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the world to end.
“Ugh…” I open my eyes, only to have a knife of sunlight cut into my eyes.
“Ow.”
Rubbing my sore back, I sit up and saw I’m in some sort of red land. The ground is grassy and—wait a minute… Those aren’t grass! Those are tiny fireworks!
I get up immediately and see trees, but those aren’t trees! Those are large, treelike fireworks.
I stare in shock as a red squirrel with fireworks sparks for a tail run past me and into a burrow.
I can’t say for sure, but I’m 80% sure this is Firework Land.
